


triple shot extra caramel extra whip

by larkscape



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Rimming, Voyeurism, don't think too hard this is porn, let Shiro get his ass ate 2kforever, nebulous post-canon au on the Atlas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larkscape/pseuds/larkscape
Summary: Itwasgoing to be a nice morning. They're still six days out from the diplomatic conference at Keplas, there's nothing ship-wise on the schedule for today, and Keith had been planning to take full advantage of the downtime.Except that Shiro and Lance have started without him.Keith plans for coffee in bed and gets a bit more than that. Lance puts his tongue to good use.
Relationships: Keith/Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 99





	triple shot extra caramel extra whip

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this last year has been hell, but now I'm recovering from surgery and officially have the brain capacity to write again! Have some celebratory Shklance porn.
> 
> Post-canon, Allura is alive and happy and off elsewhere ruling New Altea with a benevolent but somewhat overzealous fist, the Atlas is on a five-year exploratory mission because my post-canon headcanon is basically Star Trek.

Keith takes his coffee black with sugar, because plain black is too bitter for him and sugar, unlike cream, has a years-long shelf life. (Some habits you never unlearn.) Shiro is completely unashamed of his sweet tooth and orders the frilliest caramel-flavored espresso drink on the menu, with extra whipped cream, every single time. Lance, because he is a ridiculous person, insists on ordering his coffee black, no cream, no sugar, and then staring at it mournfully until Shiro offers to share his caramel monstrosity and Keith has to hunt down the sugar for his surprise 'here, Keith, this is yours now' second cup.

So Keith had snuck out early — well, early for him; Shiro had already gone for his ass-o’clock morning workout, showered, and come back to bed, as per Lance's standing orders regarding cuddling — and picked up _two_ caramel monstrosities from the Atlas's coffee bar, plus his own order.

It  _ was _ going to be a nice morning. They're still six days out from the diplomatic conference at Keplas, there's nothing ship-wise on the schedule for today, and Keith had been planning to take full advantage of the downtime.

Except that the two of them have started without him.

He’s unloading the drink carrier onto the kitchen counter in their shared quarters (an unexpected perk of being with the Captain; Shiro’s quarters were large to begin with, and the Atlas loves her captain with all the unreasoning intensity of a toddler and did some creative restructuring on her own initiative, so now the three of them basically share an apartment, complete with a huge bathtub with spa jets, a full kitchen, and, absurdly,  _ four _ couches) when he hears an unmistakable sound coming from the bedroom: Shiro moaning like someone just put their tongue up his ass.

It’s a very distinctive moan.

It also means that Lance has been busy. He was still asleep and drooling on Shiro's shoulder when Keith left.

Well, if that's how it's going to be, maybe they don't get coffee after all. Maybe Keith will drink both of theirs. (No, he won't; he can already feel the sugar crash just looking at those things, not to mention the fact that he's hopelessly weak to Shiro's puppy-dog eyes.)

Shiro whimpers. Lance mumbles something indistinct. There’s the soft sound of blankets shifting. From the corner of his eye, Keith catches a glimpse of movement through the doorframe, a flash of skin in the soft morning light, and oh, here’s an idea: maybe he'll just…  _ watch. _ Let them put on a show. Not his fault they decided to get nasty with the bedroom door open.

Besides, Shiro likes being watched, and Lance fucking _loves_ playing to an audience. It'll just be a different kind of good morning than Keith had originally planned.

He moves to lean back on the other leg of the L-shaped counter, sipping his coffee, and adjusts until he's got a good view. Through the frame of the doorway, he can see Shiro from waist to ankles, facedown on the bed with his knees underneath him and his naked ass hiked up in the air, and Lance just as naked where he's folded between Shiro's legs, holding those sculpted glutes apart with long-fingered hands so he can bury his face between them. As Keith looks on with interest, Lance presses in further, doing something that makes his jaw work. Shiro shudders and groans.

That is a fantastic view.

Keith must make some kind of appreciative noise, because Lance suddenly glances up. When he catches sight of Keith leaning on the counter, his eyebrows rise, taking in the relaxed posture and the paper coffee cup, and then he lifts his mouth and licks over the meat of Shiro’s ass, leering at Keith.

_ Watching? _ he mouths silently, tilting his head to indicate Shiro’s facedown sprawl.

In response, Keith quirks his lips in a lopsided smile and unceremoniously shoves down his waistband. It was convenience that’d prompted him to don Shiro’s black sweatpants when he left this morning, but now he’s doubly glad he did so; there’s no zipper to fuss with, just elastic, which he pulls down to rest under his balls as he palms himself in full view. With his other hand, still holding his coffee, he gestures for Lance to get back to work.

Lance grins and blows him a kiss, his fingers kneading Shiro's ass.

“Lance?” Shiro says, breathless, his thighs flexing. Keith can imagine the look on his face, even though it’s out of view: his cheek mushed against the pillow, lips pursed in a moue, a needy little wrinkle in his brow. It’s amazing how fast he gets desperate when someone rims him. Keith takes another sip of coffee and traces his fingers along the underside of his own cock, teasing himself to hardness as he watches Shiro squirm.

“I’m right here, babe,” Lance says to Shiro, “just appreciating the view. Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a gorgeous ass?” He accompanies the words with a solid grope. Shiro makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a moan, and his visible ankle lifts to rub over Lance's hip; Lance catches it with one hand, squeezing gently, stroking his long fingers over the front. (And this is why Keith likes Lance: underneath all his ridiculousness and the stupid playboy front he still puts on sometimes, Lance is actually attentive and sweet, and he's almost as dedicated to Shiro's happiness as Keith himself. Plus, he kisses like a storm and he's fantastic at eating ass and there's something about those lanky limbs and acres of smooth brown skin that makes Keith a little crazy, makes Keith want to fuck him into insensibility or trap him under Shiro's body or tie him to the headboard and watch him squirm. Or watch him rim the hell out of Shiro.)

Shiro hums, sounding pleased, and wiggles his hips. “You could, ah, appreciate it better with your tongue.”

Lance chuckles, leaning close, breathing out over Shiro’s tailbone. Keith can see the shudder that ripples over Shiro from all the way out here, and it makes his cock throb in his hand. He gets a more solid grip and strokes himself a couple times.

“That an order, Captain?” Lance murmurs, smirking over at Keith.

“Just a suggestio— _ oh.” _ Shiro’s voice goes breathy as Lance dives right back, hands back on Shiro's ass, eyes closing as he laps and sucks. “Oh yeah,” Shiro moans.  _ “God.” _

Then Lance angles his head, holding Shiro’s cheeks apart, and the jolt in Shiro’s spine tells Keith that that talented tongue is pushing its way inside. The look on Lance's face is one of focused bliss. His neck stretches as he presses deep; his shoulders tense and shift for leverage. God, as messy as he usually is, he’s probably getting spit  _ everywhere. _ Keith’s cock twitches at the thought, and he drags the side of his thumb over the slit, smearing precome. In his head, he can picture the filthy twist of Lance’s tongue, the way he likes to flick the tip just inside so Shiro’s whole body jumps.

Shiro makes a captivating shape on the sheets, his spine curving as he moans, his hips restless under Lance’s hands, his thick cock bobbing in and out of view between his legs as he moves. With a pleased hum, Lance squeezes Shiro's ass, then lifts his mouth away while he slides his hands inward, angling Shiro's hips so that Keith has a better view of how he's hooking his thumb into Shiro’s hole. Keith has to bite down on the noise he wants to make.

“Lance,  _ fuck—” _ Shiro whimpers.

“Yeah, just like that, Shiro,” Lance murmurs sweetly, low but with enough volume for Keith to hear. “You take it so perfectly, so eager. Oh, I’m gonna tongue-fuck you until you  _ scream.” _

Shiro gives a desperate whine, and Keith finds himself leaning forward, hungry to see more. Lance licks Shiro’s hole again, his tongue an obscene pink against Shiro’s skin, circling around the place where his thumb is disappearing; the point dips in alongside his thumb, just for a moment, then retreats. Shiro groans as he tries to chase after the sensation. Lance’s other thumb teases at his rim, testing the give, nudging inside. Keith can see it sinking in next to the first and the sight is dizzying.

“Look at you, sweetheart, just opening right up for me,” Lance mumbles, staring raptly at his thumbs curling inside Shiro’s body. “Jesus, do you know what you look like? A fucking dream, that’s what, god,  _ Shiro, _ I’m gonna get you so sloppy with my mouth, gonna make you come on my tongue, gonna—” Too impatient, he cuts himself off by spreading his thumbs and shoving his tongue between them.

With a garbled shout, Shiro jolts, lurching toward the wet intrusion. His spine bends further, mashing his chest into the bed even as his hips rise higher, and then his hand appears in Keith's view, closing around his dripping cock and tugging desperately, uncoordinated.

The two of them look so fucking good together, Shiro working his own cock in one messy fist and Lance eating him out like a feast, those long fingers spread on Shiro’s ass, lean forearms tensed as he holds him open.

“Oh god,” Shiro pants, muffled by the bedding he’s surely drooling into, just out of sight, “oh god, oh—  _ hnng, fuck—” _

Keith strokes himself, slow and tight, his eyes locked on the filthy display in front of him, and his cock throbs when he hits that one spot below the head just as Shiro grinds his ass back on Lance's tongue with a particularly inspiring twist of hips. Keith takes a desperate gulp of coffee that he almost chokes on, but even that can’t stifle the whine that escapes him.

At the sound, Lance glances over again. Keith tries to project an air of ‘carry on, don’t mind me’ but he’s so worked up that it probably comes off closer to desperation than nonchalance. But,  _ fuck, _ when Lance draws back, holding Shiro in place by the hips despite the needy whimper pleading for him to continue, there’s a thread of saliva stretching between his lower lip and Shiro’s hole, and Keith is only a mortal man. He can only take so much.

The thread breaks. All Keith’s air leaves him in a rush.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance says, and Shiro twitches while Keith grips himself by the base, trying not to rut into his own hand. “Are you going to come in here and help, or am I all by my lonesome in today’s edition of Eat Shiro’s Ass Until He Cries?”

Shiro’s voice wobbles, surprised and lustful, when he says, “Keith’s back?”

“Yeah, babe, he’s been watching us from the kitchen. I think he brought us coffee.” He nips Shiro’s asscheek and shoots Keith a look while Shiro mumbles something incoherent and needy. “I  _ hope _ he brought us coffee.”

Keith salutes him with his cup. “I brought you coffee.” He’s a little short of breath, but he’s also got a deathgrip on his cock and Shiro keeps making those sounds and Lance is  _ licking his goddamn lips. _ Given that set of circumstances, Keith's proud of how level he sounds. “If you make Shiro come like that, I’ll even bring it to you in there.”

“Oh my god,” Shiro gasps, “Keith, yes, what—  _ fuck, _ Lance, oh fuck don’t stop, let him see—”

Lance has surged right back in, and the hungry sounds he makes when he spears his tongue into Shiro's ass are somehow even more obscene than Shiro’s ragged moans. Keith's coffee cup slips in his fingers; he hurriedly sets it down so he doesn’t drop it entirely, then shoves the borrowed sweatpants down further and devotes both hands to touching himself.

“Keith?” Shiro says, strained. “Are you—  _ ah— _ coming in here?”

“In a bit, Shiro.” Keith's sounding pretty strained, himself. “I want to watch Lance take you apart first.”

“That,  _ hah, _ won’t,  _ fuck, _ won’t take long.”

Lance separates his mouth from Shiro’s hole long enough to smirk toward the kitchen. “'Cause I'm just that talented. You got a good view over there, Keith?”

“Fuck, fuck,  _ Lance please—” _

“The best,” Keith breathes. Shiro’s whining and writhing on the bed for want of Lance’s tongue, those thickly muscled thighs taut, his fist wrapped around his cock and his toes curling on air while Lance rests his cheek on Shiro’s ass and drops one shoulder to show off his toned back like he knows exactly what that does to Keith, and it’s— yeah. The best.

“It’s about to get better,” Lance says, cocky as always, and shoves his face into Shiro's ass with even more enthusiasm. Shiro yowls. Keith desperately squeezes the base of his own cock.

God, he's going to get come on Shiro's pants in a minute. He's going to get come on Shiro's pants when Shiro isn't even in the same room. The thought makes his stomach clench with need, makes another spurt of precome dribble out. He swipes his palm over it, clumsy with desperation and distraction, and strokes himself wetter as Shiro groans into the sheets.

How are they so hot? Keith's insides are on fire watching them, his limbs buzzing, his balls heavy and tight as he rolls them in his hand.

Lance's face is buried, his hands prying Shiro's cheeks apart, his mouth making obscene, wet noises. The desperate panting and whining coming from Shiro means that Lance is going for gold now, thrusting his tongue deep and fast like Shiro loves. Fuck, it won't be long. Lance has earned this particular cockiness; he really  _ is _ that good. Shiro's hand on his cock speeds into a desperate jerking motion, and Keith times his own strokes to match, trying to stifle his moans so he can hear every needy sound Shiro makes.

“Holy _ fuck, _ Lance, god, yes yes ye—  _ aaaah!” _

Lance shoves his face in and fucking _ slurps _ and Shiro screams and spills all over the sheets.  _ God, _ that looks amazing; Keith jerks his cock fast and hard, grunting, and shoves himself back into the counter as he starts to come. His knees shake as a shattering orgasm pulses through his whole body, sending electric tingles from cock to balls to stomach to chest to toes and back again. It wrings him from the core out.

Yep. Come on Shiro’s pants. Quiznacking  _ fuck. _

Lance lingers with his face buried in Shiro’s ass for long moments, drawing wide swipes of his tongue over his hole while Shiro shudders and slumps to the mattress. Keith takes the opportunity to recover, panting, then wipes his hands on his legs, drains his own coffee cup, and picks up the other two.

“Coffee, as promised,” he says, walking into the bedroom. Lance makes a happy noise, slumping over Shiro’s raised hips and reaching grabby hands at Keith. Keith obligingly hands over one of the caramel monstrosities.

“Oh sweet coffee, nectar of the gods,” Lance moans reverently, then takes a sip. “Keith! You glorious bastard, you got me caramel!”

“Well, duh,” Keith laughs, running his freed hand through Lance’s hair. “I  _ know _ you.”

Finally Keith has a good view of Shiro’s face, twisted toward him in the blankets, sweaty and pleased. “Hey, Keith,” Shiro pants, grinning. “We missed you this morning. … Are those my sweatpants?”

“Yep,” Keith says smugly, extending the other cup. “I had an errand to run, and they’re comfy.”

“Thank you,” Shiro says with a dopey smile. “I don’t think I can move yet to drink it, though. And you’re not keeping my pants.”

“Says who? Look, I got them all messy.” Keith deposits the cup on the nightstand, angling himself to give Shiro a good look at the white smears all over the black fabric.

_ “Keith.” _ Shiro sounds breathless all over again, staring up at Keith with wide eyes. “Keith, get down here.”

“Yes, sir,” Keith replies, smug, and leans in for a slow, filthy kiss.

At the foot of the bed, Lance slurps his coffee pointedly. When that’s not enough to get their attention, he coughs,  _ “Ahem.” _

Keith lifts up from his bent position just enough to raise one eyebrow at Lance; Lance gestures eloquently to his crotch, where his cock is still standing at attention, flushed dark. Keith smirks.

“Excuse me, Shiro, I have a needy boyfriend asking for attention.”

“What about  _ this _ needy boyfriend?” Shiro asks, catching Keith’s hand. Keith returns his grip, then kisses his fingers.

“Don’t worry, we’re not exactly going anywhere. Wouldn’t you like a show?”

“You’ve gotten off once already this morning,” Lance says, then nips the curve of Shiro’s asscheek again. It’s one of his favorite targets. “Let the rest of us have some loving.”

“Put your coffee down and we’ll see about that,” Keith tells him, stalking around the bed. Atlas put four couches in this apartment and one of them is in the bedroom; he’s going to make good use of it. Give Shiro just as good a show as he and Lance gave Keith just now. And then all three of them are going to defile the hell out of those sheets.

It’s shaping up to be Keith’s best day off in a long time.


End file.
